Greeley Daily Tribune
Monday, October 21, 1974, page 14, Greeley, Colorado
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Monday, April 25, 2016
POEM--"THE BURROW" by Stuart Basefsky, May 1969
THE BURROW
by Stuart Basefsky
May 1969
Finished finally! my dark and brazen Burrow
Clawed from clay with tough twisted finger --
Dug deep, gouged out and dredged in garish narrow,
Made strong, licked with time, eons to linger.
Wrought in blood and bone, bent on living death,
This is substance on which man endures,
And so the Burrow bleeds with me, mine death.
Secured thus I hide within, me it lures.
Chamber upon Chamber, Room after Room
A labyrinth lain, built as a bulwark,
A colossus, a Knossos, palace in loom --
A web was never needled more complex or stark.
It hides me, it hates me, it is me --
A place of consolation, a cover overhead
Blotting out, the graven ground for me,
The world of Bureaucrat and hate unsaid.
Encased in shadows, reflected on walls,
I wander aimlessly secure, absent of recognition
Blending brown with the rock and halls --
The tawny, glacial, conglomerate wall my protective partition.
My man-made cave from man was carved
To enclose my mind from the above and below,
And all 'round! I've centered myself, I'm starved
With hunger for humanity and the man I know.
But better gaunt than gorged with meal
Of men poisoned, polluted, and stale.
Better alone in thought, in deed, myself to feel
Than bleached in the light of Sun, hardened pale.
This mine was well vaulted, formed and fitted
With steel stress, like succulent honey
Hexagons of a bee's comb comely knitted,
Without machinery, enginery or money.
It took a life, a love, a laugh away
To bereave the banal canopy of the Superficials.
This Burrow has buried a man in clay,
A bust of sensitivity, from the awesome Officials.
Yes, finally finished -- but what is left?
A malignant man frozen in fright
Within a caldron cave so cautiously bereft
Of life; me deep in a hole, a living, narrow night.
by Stuart Basefsky
May 1969
Finished finally! my dark and brazen Burrow
Clawed from clay with tough twisted finger --
Dug deep, gouged out and dredged in garish narrow,
Made strong, licked with time, eons to linger.
Wrought in blood and bone, bent on living death,
This is substance on which man endures,
And so the Burrow bleeds with me, mine death.
Secured thus I hide within, me it lures.
Chamber upon Chamber, Room after Room
A labyrinth lain, built as a bulwark,
A colossus, a Knossos, palace in loom --
A web was never needled more complex or stark.
It hides me, it hates me, it is me --
A place of consolation, a cover overhead
Blotting out, the graven ground for me,
The world of Bureaucrat and hate unsaid.
Encased in shadows, reflected on walls,
I wander aimlessly secure, absent of recognition
Blending brown with the rock and halls --
The tawny, glacial, conglomerate wall my protective partition.
My man-made cave from man was carved
To enclose my mind from the above and below,
And all 'round! I've centered myself, I'm starved
With hunger for humanity and the man I know.
But better gaunt than gorged with meal
Of men poisoned, polluted, and stale.
Better alone in thought, in deed, myself to feel
Than bleached in the light of Sun, hardened pale.
This mine was well vaulted, formed and fitted
With steel stress, like succulent honey
Hexagons of a bee's comb comely knitted,
Without machinery, enginery or money.
It took a life, a love, a laugh away
To bereave the banal canopy of the Superficials.
This Burrow has buried a man in clay,
A bust of sensitivity, from the awesome Officials.
Yes, finally finished -- but what is left?
A malignant man frozen in fright
Within a caldron cave so cautiously bereft
Of life; me deep in a hole, a living, narrow night.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
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